Various Flavors of Coffee by Anthony Capella Page B

paperwork.”

    [ four teen ]

    “Toasted almonds”—this superb aroma is reminiscent of candy made from sugared almonds, or chocolate-covered almonds called pralines.
    — lenoir, Le Nez du Café

    *

E
    mily had decided she wanted to be taken out for din- ner. There was a masked ball at Covent Garden, and she was greatly desirous of seeing, as she put it, my former bohemian haunts, not to mention some of the beautiful actresses of whom she had read in the newspapers. I could not decide where to take her: the private rooms at the Savoy were too large for a tête-à-tête, the private rooms at Romano’s, with their Japanese print wallpapers, were very fine and intimate, but the Trocadero had those
    lovely corner rooms overlooking Shaftesbury Avenue . . .
    “You seem remarkably familiar with the private salons of these establishments,” she commented.“I suppose you use them for your assignations.”
    “Oh, one just gets to know about them,” I said vaguely.“I have an invalid aunt who prefers to dine à deux. ”
    “Well, I don’t want to dine in private. I want actresses.”
    “Your father would never forgive me if I took you somewhere unsuitable.”
    “I think I can stand an actress or two, Robert. Unless the urge to go on the stage has somehow become contagious, I shall be quite safe.”
    She was in a lighter mood with me these days—we were becoming easy with each other, although she still pretended to scold. “Very well,” I said. “If it is actresses you want, then it is to
    Kettner’s we must go. It will be handy for the ball, too.”
    The following day I went to arrange the menu with Henri, the dapper Frenchman who, as maître d’hôtel, administered the warren of dining rooms off Church Street.Together we pondered the op-tions. Hors d’oeuvres, of course, amongst them oysters and a dish of caviar, and then for the soup a silky velouté of artichokes.We deliberated whether sole or trout was better suited to the delicate appetite of a lady: the trout being, I was assured, particularly fine just then, trout won the day. Côtelettes de mouton Sefton was Henri’s next suggestion, to which I immediately acquiesced, but I rejected his roast pheasant, which sounded greedy for two people, in favor of perdreau en casserole. Épinards pommes Anna, haricots verts à l’Anglaise and a dauphinoise to accompany. Then salad, of course. Asparagus with a sauce mousseline. A board of cheeses, vanilla ice en corbeille, and petits fours wound up our bill of fare. As for the wines, we settled on an Amontillado, the ’82 Liebfraumilch, a pint of iced Deutz and Gelderman champagne, claret, and curaçao to close. I selected the table—positioned in a curtained alcove, it gave the option of privacy should the necessity arise, but had a view along the largest of the upstairs dining rooms when the curtains were open.Then, our preliminaries concluded, I bade farewell to the maître d’ until the following day.
    That still left the question of what to wear. Evening dress was an option—a dull one. We had opted to take our domino to the
    restaurant and change for the ball after the meal, but even so evening dress would look as if one were hardly making an effort.
    Barely had I left Kettner’s when my eye fell on a window in Great Marlborough Street. In it was displayed a fine jacket of dark blue otterskin. It was a magnificent thing—and it would look more magnificent still when paired with a cravat of French lace, such as the one I had spied a few days before in Jermyn Street.The exchange with Henri had left me feeling munificent, and I walked into the shop and inquired the jacket’s price. Three guineas—a considerable sum, but as the tailor pointed out, reasonable for so unique a garment, when one could pay almost as much for a coat indistinguishable from that worn by every dullard in the room.

    “Ah, Master Wallis,” Ike greeted me.“And only a day late, too.” “Late?”
    “With your interest.Two pounds,